Until I Met You
by WithoutAnyHope
Summary: School fic: Sherlock has just come to a new school and met a boy named John Watson. He's accepting, forgiving and kind - and Sherlock might just be falling in love with him.
1. Day One

**Day one at Sherlocks new school.**

His family had just moved to this place because of a switch in his mothers job.

He walked through the front doors at the beginning of the day as the bell rang.

_Great_, he thought as he pulled his books from his backpack and shoved them into his locker. He took out the ones he knew he would need and ran hurriedly down the hallway towards his first class room. It was science, not the ideal first period class but he could manage. Science was after all his strong suite, and he'd pass with flying colours.

_To bad there will be no real challenge here,_ he thought, mentally rolling his eyes.

It took him a couple of minutes to find his classroom; the map he was using was clearly out-dated and hadn't been updated after the renovations that had taken place a year or so previous.

He took a deep breath before turning the door knob and slowly making his way into the classroom.

He'd expected to get into the classroom, avoid the new-kid stares every new student expected on their first day and slip into a seat at the back of the room, never to really be thought of again. If only that had happened.

Sherlock emerged into the door at the front of the room. There were about twenty other students sitting at their desks, a few taking notes, some texting on their phones and others blanked out into oblivion. Simultaneously, the class turned and stared at him.

"You're late, Mr. Holmes," the teacher said, eyeing him. The man had fairly gray hair, and looked about early forties. He wore a long gray jacket with blue dress shirt underneath it.

Sherlock blinked a few times, unsure whether or not he was to speak. "Sorry, I had trouble finding the classroom."

His voice was low and quiet, and a few of the students in the front row strained their ears curiously. The others went back to what they had been doing; he couldn't sustain their interest, which was all for the better.

"My name is Mr. Lestrade. We have been studying chemicals in class this unit. For your punishment for your tardiness, would you care to care to tell us the formula for at least two compounds containing Magnesium?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "Magnesite is MgCO3 and Magnesium oxide is MgO."

Mr. Lestrade looked impressed. "I'm surprised you actually knew that. Did you learn that with your last science teacher?"

"No. I learned myself."  
>The class glanced up at him. One of the boys in the middle row scoffed. "Freak."<p>

Sherlocks eyes darted up and looked at the boy who said it. He had dark brown hair that stuck to his pale, greasy face. He had on crooked glasses.

The class snickered, and Sherlock became very uncomfortable very fast. The rest of the day was no better. Throughout everyone of his classes, his peers laughed at and called him names every time the teacher picked him to answer a question. He hadn't even put up his hand to answer anything, but when the rest of the class didn't either, the teachers all used the same line; "Let's have the new boy answer."

All in all, the day had not gone smoothly. Even though life at his old school had been almost exactly the same, he had grown up with those people and had learned how to ignore it. He hadn't expected to fit in and be excepted here, but it would have been nice if he had been left alone.

The end of the day had finally arrived and Sherlock was more than ready to get the hell out of there. He finished at his locker and threw his pack around his shoulder. Just as he opened the door to leave, he felt two hands pushing him back into the wall. The force was enough to make him drop to the floor.

Pain shot throughout back and his behind, and he wasn't mobile for a few moments. He heard muttered laughter and "freak" echoing down the hallway as he was left alone by the door.

"Hey, are you okay?" Came a voice from the lockers to the left. Sherlock squinted and looked up. There was a boy his age standing and looking at him. He had deep blue eyes, sandy blond hair and a pale slightly tanned complexion.

Sherlock nodded and tried to stand up, but just ended up falling back into the position he was in before.

"Here let me help you," the boy said.. He grabbed Sherlocks hand and hoisted him up; he was certainly strong.

"Name's John, John Watson."

"Sherlock. And thanks."

Sherlock shifted the back pack on his back so it was more comfortable and turned to leave.

"You're new here right?"

"Yes."

Why was this John boy talking to him?

"I don't think we have any classes together do we?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I assume not. If we id, I'm sure you'd know it's becoming a fast crime to be seem talking to me like a person and not insulting me."

John couldn't help but grin a little bit. "It gets better. Trust me. Same thing happened to me when I came here half way through grade nine."

I doubt it, Sherlock thought. People picked on Sherlock for different reasons than the average victim.

Sherlock nodded and turned again, getting ready to walk away.

"Do you walk?"

Sherlock nodded again.

"I do as well. Are you going in the direction of Robinson?"

"Where, sorry? Just moved here, I'm not really sure where everything is."

John pointed to the right in the general direction of where Sherlock had been planning on going.

"Yes I live around there on Baker Street."

"Well I'm actually just a few blocks over, so how about we walk together?"

Sherlock looked at John oddly.

_Is this guy for serious?_

"Um, sure. That'd be nice."

John smiled happily and opened up the door for Sherlock.

Sherlock smiled back and walked through. He was surprised as the kindness John was showing, and also grateful. He never really had friends, so he wasn't really sure what to consider John as right now. He went with acquaintance

He wasn't sure what might happen after John learned more about him; whether or not he might ignore Sherlock in the end and think he's some stuck up jerk like everyone else seemed to think.

This could be nothing, but it could also be the start of something wonderful.

_Get a grip Sherlock._

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Much appreciated!

Of course this story will be continued. I have all of these great ideas for it so we shall see!

Thanks so much to user RHIG for this idea!

I've never written a school fic so please tell me how it was. Thanks!

-Hope


	2. To The Movies

John Watson.

I've never met someone so accepting, caring and forgiving of others. Almost too quickly did he take my acquaintance and accept me for what I am. I didn't understand at first why, but I have come to the conclusion that that is just the way he is. He looked past my flaws, my freak nature and –

Sherlock closed his journal he had bought himself when he had moved here and threw it onto his bed side table, sighing. He lay back onto his bed a closed his eyes. This John Watson had really done something to him, and he wasn't sure how to react to that.

It had been a few weeks since Sherlock had come to this new school, and life there was surprisingly tolerable. His classmates hated him for all he was worth; they taunted him, laughed at him, pushed him into lockers constantly, and tried time and time again to break him. But to Sherlock, it mattered less and less because at the end of it he wasn't alone, but he had someone there that was more than willing to pick up the broken pieces and put them back together.

Sherlock was running his long fingers through his course, curly hair. He inhaled slowly and opened his eyes, looking towards the window. He heard faint foot steps coming up the driveway and three raps on the door below him. He listened as his mother sprung up from her chair and opened the door. There were a few muffled words exchanged, probably something along the lines of "John! He's upstairs" and "Thank you, Ms. Holmes," followed by the light sounds of John making his way upstairs.

There was more door-rapping and Sherlock muttered, "Come in."

John opened the door and looked at Sherlock's long frame resting on his white bed spread.

"Hey Sherlock," he said happily. "Can I come in?"

Sherlock muttered a' yes' sand sat up. John closed the door behind him and walked in, placing himself on the bed beside Sherlock. Sherlock's eyes scanned over John for a moment and mentally smiled to himself. John had been out walking by himself for about an hour before he had arrived there at Sherlock's house, when John lived not 10 minutes from him. He hadn't been out to do anything, just had been walking. He wasn't sure what his deductions were really telling him.

A few moments had passed before John rolled his eyes and his shoulders slumped – before he had been sitting straight and attentive, but now he knew it was alright to relax. "You're doing your little investigating thing aren't you."

Sherlock hummed in reply and tilted his head.

"So I suppose you already guessed that I was going to ask you if you wanted to see a movie."

Sherlock raised his eyebrow and stood up, looking down at John. "Yes, completely," Sherlock lied. John shrugged and didn't bother asking how he knew. He raised himself off the bed so that he was standing right in front of Sherlock. "So, are you up for it?"

Sherlock pursed his lips. Was John asking him on a date? His fingers twitched but the rest of him remained still. He analyzed the situation once over, but decided that it wasn't. Friends went to the movies together right? He had no clue, since he didn't have friends and never watched television at all.

"I suppose," Sherlock said, nonchalantly. "When are we going?"

"The movie starts in two hours so we should probably go at like 2:30."

"We can just hang out here while we wait," Sherlock suggested. John smiled and nodded and sat back down on the bed. The two sat around in silence for a while, talked a little bit, discussed school work and such. Even though neither of them had any classes together, the two spent a fair amount of time together after school. They didn't get together as much on the weekend, but after school the two usually picked a house and stayed there until it got dark. Today was one of the first times they were really going somewhere other than to walk or to eat.

"What's that?" John asked, pointing to the slick black journal on Sherlock's table.

"Just a book," Sherlock said casually.

"Is it a good read?"

"No, I'm actually writing in it myself."

"You write? You'll have to let me read some of it sometime. What do you write about?"

_Mostly you_. "Just observations."

"And here I thought you meant creatively writing," John said, smiling. "All of your deductions leave little room for creativity."

This was, in a sense true. All of what Sherlock observed was purely fact, not fiction, which hardly left anything to the imagination. Sherlock did not find pleasure in writing 'creatively'. He much rather preferred to right down exactly what he was feeling and what he had on his mind so that he could further forget about it, or try to 'delete' it and leave room for any other brilliant things people should leave space in their brains for.

The time ticked away and when 2:30 came around, Sherlock and John were staring at each other silently once again.

"I have so much more productive things to be doing right now," Sherlock whispered as he grabbed his coat from its hook and shrugged it on.

"But you would rather be doing things with me wouldn't you." The way John said it made Sherlock's stomach twist and he turned away from John for a moment, hiding the red in his cheeks.

"Well come on, are we going to see this crap movie or what?" Sherlock finally said, placing his hand on the door knob. John got up and walked through the door as Sherlock opened it for him. He turned around halfway through and lifted his hand up to Sherlock's face. He moved a strand of hair away from Sherlock's eyes and nodded. "Of course," he whispered in a low voice.

He proceeded to turn around and made his way down the stairs. It took Sherlock a moment to regain a mobile state.

Why did one harmless thing like brushing away hair reduce Sherlock to this?

He shook his head and closed his room door behind him.

Thanks for reading my second chapter! I know how late this is, and I will try my hardest to get the next chapters out to you faster. I'm not sure if you were looking for fluff, but that's what this chapter is and I am sorry if I disappointed you, but I promise I have some bigger plans for the next chapters but I won't give away too much… Please, please, please add any suggestions you have on things you would like to see, I am very open to any ideas and I need to know what you guys would like. Thanks again RHIG for this idea, I am having a lot of fun! I was kinda sad I didn't get more reviews about it, but that's alright. Thanks to all those people who subscribed and favourited! It means a lot!

-Hope


	3. Girlfriend

_**Hey my amazing readers! I just sat down with a nice cuppa cocoa and started writing. I have tons of subscriptions and favourites which makes me :D so happy! Though still no reviews which I am a little disappointed about, but I'm just thankful you guys take the time to read. Thanks again, hope you enjoy this chapter! (Sorry if there are many mistakes...) **_

_**-Hope**_

It had been two months at the new school. The Christmas holidays were approaching fast, and it was clear in the kids rowdy behavior that they were more than ready to be let out.

Sherlock was sitting at the kitchen table staring at his soggy cereal.

"Oh Sherlock, do eat up. You've been eyeing that bowl for at least ten minutes now." Sherlock's mother said as she emptied the dish washer, cutlery clanging around as she shoved them messily into a drawer.

"Mum?" Sherlock said after a moment of clanging. "What are we doing for Christmas?"

Sherlocks mom stopped and thought for a moment. "Nothing as far as I know, other than the regular things of course. Your aunt will probably be up to visit for Christmas day until new years, and she might be bringing your cousin as well."

"Joy," Sherlock muttered.

"Oh, Tricia isn't that bad," she said, sighing. She continued to throw dishes around the kitchen until everything was put away. "Why?"

"Can I have John over?" Sherlock asked, with hardly any hesitation.

"For Christmas?"

"Is that a problem?"

Sherlocks mom shook her head. "No, I don't suppose that is a problem. Mycroft will probably be bringing Jenny around, if the two of them have, well, sorted things out."

Sherlock snickered. "Oh please. Things between them will never be sorted. Mycroft is so obviously gay."

"Sherlock, I hardly think that's appropriate. Your brother really does like Jenny."

"Yeah, like a child loves a stray dog. You really want it, but you know you can't have it."

Sherlocks mother rolled her eyes. "Enough of that," she said, though there was a slight smile playing a the corner of her mouth. "Now get on to school, would you? And don't forget to eat your lunch, since you didn't have your breakfast."

Sherlock stood and grabbed his backpack. "Yes mother," he said, in a flat, expressionless tone.

XXXXX

Sherlock entered the school feeling confident, and nearly excited, but he kept up his usual face. The other students had started to go into the face of just ignoring his existence, which he couldn't be more grateful for. The attention was only ever on him when he needed it which of course when he was being smart and just had to show off. Other than that, his classmates just left him to his own.

_Left, right, pass the washrooms and gym, two doors later and another right,_ Sherlock thought, mapping out the quickest way to John's locker. He usually preferred to take a different route to avoid the early morning basketball practice release, but he really wanted to see John and ask him about Christmas plans. He'd always been alone on Christmas; his brother usually had some beard – no sorry, girl, and his mother had her sister and they both had their occasional boyfriends. Sherlock never really had anybody that he'd even considered, much less wanted to spend Christmas with.

But John was different.

Sherlock weaved himself in and out of students, being bumped up into lockers and sometimes tripping over feet and backpacks.

Finally, the light at the end of the tunnel; John stood with his locker open, reaching in to grab his first period books, which was for math of course; Sherlock had John's schedule memorized.

"John!" Sherlock called out as his pace quickened.

"Sherlock!" John exclaimed, turning to face him. "Hey, what's up?"

"Listen John, I have some really exciting news."

Sherlock was now looming over John who continued to pull out all the utensils he'd need for math. He contemplated getting his second period books out, but decided against it.

"Should I be afraid?"

"No. You should be excited. That's why it's exciting news."

"Ah, I see. And this exciting news is…?"

"Well for Christmas this year-" Sherlock began, but stopped when he saw John's eyes direct themselves to something behind Sherlock. He spun around, curious as to what he was looking at.

"Sarah!" John said happily, as a girl walked towards the two of them. "Sherlock, this is Sarah!"

"Oh, um, hello Sarah. Anyway," Sherlock continued, his interest wavering. "As I was saying-"

"Hi! Nice to meet you," Sarah said extending out her hand, but awkwardly putting it back in when Sherlock refused to embrace it.

"Sherlock this is Sarah. She is my new girlfriend."

Everything seemed to freeze around Sherlock. Girlfriend?

"What?"

"She is my girlfriend."

"As of when?" Sherlock picked through his mind furiously. There had been no mention of a girlfriend ever. He didn't even recognize the girl. He was obviously in the same first period class as John, seeing as she was holding the same math notebook and had the same worksheets resting under her arm as he did.

"As of yesterday. That's why I couldn't make it over to your house for dinner last night – the two of us were out at Speedy's getting some pasta. We have nearly all the same classes together-"

"Except period four. I have history, he has anthro."

The two of them now had their fingers winded together and were smiling at each other.

"I've heard so much about you," Sarah said, breaking the awkward silence.

"I've heard nothing about you," Sherlock snapped, directing his words at John.

Another awkward silence ensued, and Sarah looked a little hurt. John opened his eyes wider at Sherlock as if to say "watch it."

"Well that's fantastic," Sherlock said, breaking into a quick, false grin. "Well I have class to get to and cannot waste my time here chatting."

"But you waste your time here chatting every morning."

"That's not chatter John. That is a real conversation. This, _this_ is chatter."

Sherlock brushed past the two of them hurriedly without a goodbye.

"Wait- Sherlock! What was it you wanted to tell me about? Something about Christmas?" John said, letting go of Sarah's hand and trying to reach out for him.

"Never mind."

"Wait- Sherlock! Are you still coming over tonight?"

"Can't. Busy," Sherlock called out loudly as he rushed down the hallway. He didn't hear if whether or not John had replied, he just kept walking. A girlfriend? He'd never even mentioned liking any girls from his classes –they were friends weren't they? Didn't friends share things?

Sherlock practically jogged to his first period class with a mixture of emotions. He was confused, a bit jealous, a bit upset, but he was also glad that John wouldn't be there for any of his classes that day.

If anyone was good at reading him, it was John, and he really didn't want to let John know how he was feeling.


End file.
